


Crossing Daggers

by Sanguinifex (Eros_Scribens)



Series: Zevwarden Week 2016 [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, Appalling Sword Puns, Daggers, Dick Jokes, Kinky Mage Fuckery, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Sparring, Weapons, ZevWarden Week, Zevwarden Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eros_Scribens/pseuds/Sanguinifex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alim Surana wants to learn to protect himself better without magic, and asks Zevran for help, but Zevran is reluctant to revisit memories of his own training. Little wonder their training session turns to use of a different sort of blade.</p><p>For ZevWarden Week 2016, Day 6: Sparring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Daggers

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the M rating, I'm too tired to write viscerally detailed sex scenes. I'll probably write something horrific about creative misuse of grease spells and other summons in a few days, to make up for it.

“Can you teach others to be an assassin?” blurted out Alim.

“Why? Do you wish to become an assassin? That hardly seems like you.”

“Actually, Leliana asked. But I also wish I could fight better, without magic. I had another nightmare last night, about darkspawn Templars.”

Zevran thought about it, for a long moment. He remembered his training--Alim did not know, would never really know if he could help it, just what Crow training was. Eleven years now, nearly twelve, since he’d passed his initiation, and he still had nightmares, the really nasty kind where you also wake up humping the mattress. And the nightmares about the times he’d been ordered to train recruits the same way, later, were even worse. But bladework, at least the basics of it, that he could probably teach without atrocities. So, too, stealth and poisons. Pits full of scorpions or having to eat potions considered not lethal enough were effective motivators, but probably unnecessary.

“I suppose the Crows are already furious, yes?” he said at long last. “What harm is another tweak to their nose? You and Leliana would both be better snipers than shadowed blades, you with magic and she with a bow, but I can teach you some basic knifework, and improve hers. And poisons can be taught to anyone with quick fingers and a careful mind. It shall be fun! I will make it fun, I promise.”

The last words were really for himself, of course.

“Can we do it after breakfast? That’s when the others usually spar,” asked Alim.

“I don’t see why not? Now go, eat. I must choose some blades that will be good for training.”

Zevran kept his own favorite daggers in his belt, of course, but he kept extras in his pack. Daggers could easily be lost, stuck in an enemy who then fled or was carried out, or bent against armor (he had taken one look at the golems in the Deep Roads, and started throwing ice grenades and clay pots of grease instead), or even, if one was fighting mages or rage demons, melted. And darkspawn blood was simply nasty on the metal. Even if he cleaned them the moment the fight was over, the blade would be pitted after a few battles. Simply better to keep half a dozen spare blades than risk having to fight bare-handed until the next town with a smith.

His favorite was his original Crow dagger, that he’d brought from Antiva, and a thin blade called “The Rose’s Thorn” that Alim had bought for him in Orzammar. It had cost a truly obscene sum, and it pierced chainmail like butter. He was willing to use neither for training. Eventually, he decided on a Dalish dagger he’d picked up from Varathorn in the Brecilian Forest, and a stiletto with a thick, finger-gripped handle. Both were veridium: cheaper and less springy or durable than dragonbone steel, which was why he ordinarily preferred not to use them, but more than good enough for learning, and the shapes and handles were perfect for a beginner.

He found a spare belt, the kind that could take holding up daggers, and carried everything out of the tent. By now, everyone else was half done with their breakfast.

“Leftover stew, in the pot,” Alim mumbled at him, and Zevran got a bowl and tried to force the stuff down. _Not Crow training, not training at all, just practicing with an extremely inexperienced person,_ he told himself. It didn’t really help.

Alim finished his stew and put down his bowl. “Ready?”

“For anything.” They walked to the edge of the camp.

“You already know how to use knives a bit. For surgery, and then that little knife you use for blood spells. I do not really have time to observe you in battle, but I am pretty sure you know how to get it out quickly, and would be able to use it, if needed, in battle. Show me.”

Alim got out his staff, got in standard two-handed position, and nodded that he was ready. Then, he switched his staff to a single-handed blocking hold in his left hand, drew his spell knife from the sheath in his breast pocket with his right, and brought it down to his left arm, stopping just short of actually drawing blood. Then, still holding the knife handle, he went through the motions for casting first Blood Wound and then Chain Lightning, and the rest of his main battle set, changing grips and occasionally making further mock-cuts.

“Should I do that again, with the other hand?”

“No, I have an idea what to do now.”

Zevran showed Alim the daggers he’d chosen, and the belt.

“Real blades, already?”

“My third-best ones. It is the best way to learn, if the Crows are right. They gave me a sharp blade when I was eight years old, and told me I was going to learn to use it to kill people, and I would be beaten if I did not. Beatings were a rather more tangible threat than death at that age, you see. You already know you want to learn how to kill anything that tries to hurt you, so you are therefore considerably more experienced than I was. Besides, I am not the sort of man to carry around fake weapons, no?” _There are no fake weapons. Stop thinking about what Crows mean by Training._

“I suppose you’re not, no.”

“First, before you use the weapons, you should learn how to draw them. Position the sheaths on the belt, like this. You are accustomed to use your right hand for precise moves, and your left for larger blocking motions, so you should use the stiletto on your right, and the Dalish dar’misu on your left. In fact, if you do well at this, you might consider using a dual-blade dagger on the left. Daggers are drawn from the same side on which they are used.

“Now, there are several ways to grip a dagger,” continued Zevran, sinking into the familiarity of weaponry, “and they start on the draw. The fastest to draw is the reverse grip, where the hilt is towards your thumb.” Zevran drew his own left dagger to explain. “It is a good slashing grip, and can be quite powerful. However, since the wrist cannot bend back very far, this grip must be used at close range, and from above. You cannot stab upwards or sideways. And if an enemy has a great amount of brute strength, they may easily be able to pin your weapon, or even force a blocking arm down so that you stab yourself. Even so, I recommend this grip for your own left dagger, since it is similar to your main left staff grip. You will notice that I helped you sling the sheath so that when you draw the dar’misu, the edge is out. Put your left hand on the dar’misu, the same way that I am holding this. No, closer to the blade.” Zevran sheathed his dagger and went to arrange Alim’s hand on the grip, finger by finger.

“Now practice drawing it.” He watched Alim draw and resheath the blade several times, making the typical beginner’s mistakes and leaving himself wide open. “Here, like this.” Zevran stood behind Alim, placing his hand over Alim’s, and directed his arm slowly through the arc of the draw, and then a few times faster.

“You do not draw first and then attack. From the moment you touch the knife, that is an attack. If you do this right, and your opponent wears no armor, your draw should take blood. If your opponent is armored, your left draw should block them, and then the second motion of your right-hand stabbing weapon should take blood.”

Zevran was suddenly aware of how close he stood to Alim, how close his lips were to the man’s ear. He felt Alim shiver under his hand, and knew he felt it too.

“Ah, is this entirely about correcting my draw anymore?”

“Only if you want it to be. I did say I would make it fun, no?” He had to admit, he was all too glad to have an excuse to stop thinking about his own early training.

“Mm, I do think I am a little too distracted to be using sharp objects at the moment.”  Alim sheathed the dar’misu, and turned around towards Zevran for a kiss.

They kissed, tongues teasing each other, hands skimming over each other’s bodies, until the need for air broke them apart. They were down a small hill from the camp, so it was a pretty safe bet that no one could see them if they were lying down.

“Maybe you should practice some _stabbing_ with your manly blade,” suggested Zevran, pulling Alim on top of him by his ass.

Alim groaned. “That was terrible, and I’ll have you know that’s in comparison to the Starkhaven translations of Nevarran romance novels.”

“Still, a grease spell, _mi espadachín?_ ”

“Is that a word that has anything to do with swords?”

“Yes, it means ‘swordsman.’ I thought you knew ‘espada’?”

“I do, but I was in denial. Here’s your grease spell.” Alim pressed his hand to Zevran’s stomach, and Zevran felt a most curious sensation in his ass.

“What did you just do?”

“Cast a grease spell inside of you. Less messy. Don’t worry, I did it right, it’s at most a couple of tablespoons. You do _not_ want to know what happens to people who accidentally summon quarts.”

Zevran did actually have a pretty good idea of what would happen, and was rather turned on by the mental image. But he liked this pair of pants, which was still half on him, so he’d just ask Alim about it later. “Then please, fill the remaining room in my ass with your fleshy weapon.”

“That was an _extremely_ disturbing turn of phrase, and I am going to ignore it.”

Internal grease spells, as it turned out, were the perfect balance between the sublimities of proper stretching and the burn of taking a cock by sheer muscle relaxation. Alim had found a position that just perfectly hit his prostate (it was amazing, how after several months of sleeping with someone, all of a sudden you both knew so well how each other’s bodies worked), and the pleasure contrasting with the pain in his too-tight rim felt better with every thrust. Alim was already making those little noises that meant plateau, and then his hand was on Zevran’s cock, pumping him, and once again Zevran closed his hand around Alim’s over his...weapon.

Alim’s thrusts changed into the _two-one_ rhythm of approaching orgasm, and then moments later Zevran felt him spend hot inside him. Perhaps two minutes more of the both of them tugging at Zevran’s cock, with Alim still inside him, and Zevran was gasping out his own release. Feeling Zevran’s spasms around his softening prick, Alim shuddered blissfully at the overstimulation.

Alim pulled out of Zevran and rolled over next to him, not even bothering to cover himself up yet. “You know, I could get to like this kind of sparring,” he said.

“It is considerably more enjoyable than the usual Crow methods, I admit.” So strange, a form of training he would want to dream about.

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck the Crows. Zevran is a snark-wrapped massive trauma bundle. Also fuck the Chantry, because Alim is a spirit-magic-wrapped slightly less massive trauma bundle. Those darkspawn Templar nightmares are usually sexual, too.
> 
> Crow hierarchy headcanon: There are several different specialized training paths, between various methods of killing and various strategies to get to where you can kill your target, plus "administrative" specialities like masterminds/strategists or interrogators. Most Crows are expected to know three or four. Zevran, for example, would be a blade, a naked fighter, a _mielero_ (honeypot), and a poisoner. Rinna was for sure a mastermind, and (if I had to guess, which I do) probably an interrogator and sniper.
> 
> The stuff on knife grips is from [here](http://www.jayfisher.com/Knife_Grip_Styles_Hand_Sizing.htm); it's a fairly decent general overview.
> 
> I'll draw a picture of Alim's blood magic knife later, but it's a small knife about the shape of a pastry cutter, but flat. It's all blade; the handle is through the top. You put three fingers through it, nails facing the sharp side, then you use it like a slicing version of Wolverine claws; this allows him to open his hand and have the blade out of the way, so he can switch back to his staff while still holding it. I'm honestly not sure if it's obsidian (which would be sharper and cut cleaner) or dragonbone steel/nevarrite/etc high tier metal ore (which would dull more easily but be less likely to break or chip).


End file.
